Stop stealing my LJ! (auchic) wrote,
Stop stealing my LJ!
auchic

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Expanding my horizons...

Yeah, you heard me.


Title: Blame It on the Tights
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: A conversation. Syd/Weiss
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine.


“I am so going to kill you, Sydney Bristow.”

“You know, you keep saying that, but here I am, still alive and well. Memo to Eric: must find new way to threaten friends.”

“Well this time I mean it. Once I get my hands on my gun, you’re a dead woman.”

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“I don’t know why I even agreed to this. Stupidest thing ever.”

“Come on! You had fun, admit it. And you’ll do much better next week, I know you will.”

“No. There will be no next week, because that was it. Good-freaking-bye to the whole thing.”

“Eric! You wouldn’t ditch me!”

“Hell yeah I would. Look, Syd, I’ve put up with a lot for you lately, but I’m not going back to dance class. Ever.”

“I can’t go alone!”

“Yes you can.”

“Eric, I know you had fun. I could see it. What’s wrong; is it the tights?”

“The less we speak of the tights, the better. These things itch to hell. But it wasn’t just the tights.”

“If you’re talking about that…incident, no one will care. They barely noticed.”

“Barely…the hell? I fell on my ass in front of a dozen beautiful women, who couldn’t stop giggling at me the rest of the night. That is not an incident, it’s mortifying. And I’ll care. You know, I only told you I’d do this if you picked a coed dance class.”

“This is a coed class.”

“A coed class with other men.”

“Okay, okay, I owe you. What do you want?”

“Besides your imminent death? You’re making dinner tonight. And every night for at least a week.”

“Ok fine. If it’s stop you from bitching.”

“The only thing that’ll stop me is getting out of these leg irons. Christ, how do you breathe in these things?”

“You don’t. Welcome to the hell that is the fashion industry.”

“You women are insane.”

“I’m not really up for cooking tonight. Is it okay if we order in?”

“Nope. I want a home cooked meal. Start cooking, Bristow.”

“And what would you do if I just sat here all night?”

“This.”

“NO! Eric, stop it; you know I’m ticklish.”

“Which is why I’m tickling you. You know, for a super spy, you’re not that bright.”

“Stop, stop, please stop or I’m gonna pee.”

“Okay. There are other ways you can pay me back, you know.”

“…”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Huh? What?”

“Why’d you kiss me?”

“Because I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages.”

“And I’ve been wanting you to kiss me too. But why now?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s the tights.”

“What?”

“Yeah. They kind of give me a new confidence, like I’m Superman or something. You know, like I can go for broke, nothing to lose, all that stuff.”

“You’re serious.”

“Why not? Makes sense, in a weird little way.”

“You’re weird, you know that. Kiss me again.”

“…”

“Mmm…Juicy Fruit Red. I like that taste.”

“Still think it’s the tights?”

“Yep. You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t they, oh, a little uncomfortable? I mean…”

“It’s not too too bad right now. But if you kiss me again, we might have a problem.”

“Ah. Well then, we should do something about them.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. You think I’d be satisfied with a few kisses?”

“I hoped not, but you never know. Okay, you’re gonna have to help me.”

“What? Here?”

“Why not?”

“Not the couch. It’s way too uncomfortable.”

“The bed it is then.”

“Oof!”

“Oops! Syd, I’m sorry!”

“Ow! That hurt.”

“I slipped.”

“Stop making excuses and get up here and kiss me again.”

“…”

“And there go the tights.”

“Aren’t you glad?”

“I dunno, I was kinda getting used to them.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Sure.”

“Mmm…don’t stop, Eric.”

“Why do you taste so good? And smell so good?”

“Dunno. Hush.”

“Oh man, Syd, don’t do that. That drives me nuts.”

“Eric, for once, can you just shut up?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Wow. Just…wow.”

“Mmm…yeah.”

“That’s it? I think I liked it better when you screamed Eric so loud, the windows almost broke.”

“It wasn’t that loud, was it?”

“We should be glad the neighbours are deaf.”

“Oh ha ha.”

“C’mere and kiss me.”

“…”

“Eric? Are you hungry?”

“For food or for…?”

“Well, both, but right now I was thinking food.”

“Yeah. My stomach’s been growling for a while now.”

“That’s your stomach? I thought it was trucks downshifting on the freeway.”

“Ouch! That hurt!”

“Sorry. Want me to kiss it better?”

“Yes please.”

“…”

“So? Food?”

“You know, that takeout idea doesn’t sound so bad now.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Come on.”

“You mean we have to get out of bed? That sucks.”

“Quit whining. At least I’m not sticking you back in those tights.”

“But I don’t have any other clothes.”

“You can’t eat without clothes on?”

“Ah, gotcha. So what’s it gonna be, naked Chinese or naked pizza?”

“You pick.”

“Pepperoni and extra cheese it is. And for dessert…?”

“Oh, dessert must be done naked. No other way around it.”

“Ah. Good.”

“How did we get here?”

“It was the tights, I’m telling you.”
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